All I Need
by blakeBird
Summary: Four teens from different backgrounds, struggling each with different problems, somehow end up in an entangled path almost as if it were destined. Lance, the jock with abusive parents. Keith, the deaf kid who loves music. Pidge, the artistic anorexic girl. Hunk, the class clown with a severely sick sister. How is it possible for the group to become friends? Modern AU, no slash :)
1. Chapter One

Sadly, I don't own Voltron.

* * *

Paladin High School. A place with every sort of person you could think of between the ages of fourteen and eighteen. It was full of chaos, misery, calm, happiness, and joy for many people. It all really depended on the person. If you take into consideration each individual and their home situations, thoughts, views, problems, strengths, and blocks, their feelings toward the establishment can differ in varying degrees.

Lance McClain: junior, jock, seemingly stuck up to the rest of the population, known playboy, and source of harassment to many. What nobody knows of is his private life, his alcoholic father, abusive mother, deteriorating financial situation, and lonely nights spent fearfully in locked closets. Those days his friends thought he was skipping? His parents simply forgot to unlock the door of the small room, leaving the boy contained and severely claustrophobic. If he broke out, that would only lead to harsher beatings. School is an escape.

Keith Kogane: sophomore, deaf, rather aggressive in appearances, projects indifference to everything, and never looks his fellow classmates in the eye. He grew up with just his father, seeing as his mother died of meningitis shortly after Keith was born. The boy contracted the same disease at the age of twelve, rendering him deaf, barely escaping with his life. Despite the hearing loss, Keith dreams of nothing more than becoming a musical prodigy. No one except his father knows of this of course, they would all laugh. He is a genius on the piano and can play anything suggested to him. At school his grades are above average, though not by much. He sticks to himself and never opens up. No one has much of a problem with this anyways, because who would want to befriend the deaf kid? School is simply an unavoidable part of life.

Katie "Pidge" Holt: freshman, tough-chick attitude, genius though she tries not to show it, model thin, semi-popular, and aspiring artist. She's the one who hasn't slept since last week because of the current project she's working on. Never tired though, she always puts up a front. In reality she lives in a dingy, two-room apartment with four siblings and two parents. Her family is very poor, struggling just to scrounge up food. That was never a problem for Pidge, however. Secretly she suffers from anorexia and depression. Constantly she works to get nourishment for her younger brothers and sister, yet nothing for herself. Her oldest brother, Matt, went missing half a year prior to the start of school, and she refuses to give up search for him. Art distracts her from all the things going around in her life. School is a pain, taking up her valuable time.

Tsuyoshi "Hunk" Garett: sophomore, gentle giant, rather shy, known for cracking jokes non-stop, sometimes teased for his size, and full of compassion. First things first: what's going on with his name? His mother is asian, so that explains most of it. The only thing Hunk knows is that it's hilarious when substitute teachers try to pronounce it. The boy was always up for a good laugh, and the more who joined in the merrier. Even though he was knowns as the kind, compassionate, and funny one, he didn't really have any close friends. He kept people at as much of a distance as he could without coming off as rude. His younger sister was the reason he constantly made corny and cringe-worthy puns. She has stage-two leukemia, and Hunk wanted to be able to cheer her up as much as possible. School was a place for experimentation.

As impossible as it seems, these four unlikely teens somehow managed to become the tightest group of friends. Their differences and struggles somehow lifted each other up, changed each member of the group for good. In short, they became each other's lifelines. All they needed was before them.

* * *

Sorry for the short chapter. ;-;

I know so far it seems really stupid and cheesy and OOC but wait! I have le plan. I will fix all of these things, just give me a few chapters.

God the ending is so stupid.

The power of friendship. Wheee...

I'll fix that too. It'll be super intense and angsty in future chapters.

Leave a review, tell me what you think so far! Criticism is always welcomed.

But seriously I'm sorry for how horrible this chapter is. It's making me shudder.


	2. Chapter Two

Oh my God.

I have never received such good responses on something so soon after I posted it.

I did a little happy dance and was smiling with such intensity that it creeped people out.

I mean, I really wasn't proud of the last chapter. I had pictured it typing out better.

BUT OH BOY I have never received this much positive attention so soon! With my other stories it took days to get views, much less follows and reviews.

But thank you all so much :)

I have a new vigor when I type. I wasn't very confident in this before, so thanks again.

On with the fic!

* * *

Keith was procrastinating to put it shortly. He held a pair of Apple earbuds in his hand, the music playing full blast to feel the vibrations in his palm. The selected song was Chopin's Etudes, Op. 25: No. 5 in E Minor. This particular composition he knew like the back of his hand, from the days when he could hear. Feeling the sound waves pulsing from the minute speaker helped him remember the sound. Each instrument had a particular movement. The violin was a sort of drawn-out vibration that was low and steady as if the sounds were in line with the straightened path the bow made against the delicate strings. The opposite of this was the piano, notes being sudden and almost jumpy with each key pressed. The deeper notes out cause a stronger hum, and the opposite for the higher ones. The buzz of the piano was clustered and held more strength than the violin.

If he tried to explain this to anyone else he would surely seem crazy. So he didn't. But for the moment he relished the music he felt in his palm. He could hear it in his head, the vibrations matching with the melody in his mind. Keith closed his eyes, focusing, imagining. He was so close to hearing it...

Holding the earbuds in one hand, he drummed out the melody of the piano on the material of his jeans. Standing, he walked across the room and retrieved his backpack from the same place where he had abandoned it the day before. He figured he could do his homework in class. Instead of having a translator in his classes, teachers either wrote or typed out the instructions for the day's lesson. Keith was smart enough to figure it out without asking questions, so it worked out.

His disability caused all the teachers to treat him like he was different, and Keith understood that. He _was_ different. But the adults treated him like he was a small fragile child, never pressing him or getting angry with him. He used that to his advantage in the best ways he could. Homework, for starters: they wouldn't scold him or mark him down for turning it in late. It was pretty awesome.

Taking a quick glance at the clock proved that he was running behind, so Keith disconnected the cord from his phone and strolled out the door, shoving them messily into the front pocket of his black jeans. He closed his bedroom door with his foot.

On his way out the front door, he slammed it extra hard to signify his leave to his father. It wasn't like he could yell, "Hey, I'm leaving, Dad!" like a normal teenager would. Once the deed was done, the fifteen-year-old made his way towards Paladin High.

Fifteen minutes later, Keith arrived at his locker. It was only a ten-minute walk to come to the building's front doors from his house. The raven-haired teen enjoyed the walk in the early morning, especially when it was winter. He loved the cold, loved the chilly breeze on his face. Winter wasn't much farther away as September was coming to a close. Keith was glad. Winter meant winter break which gave him the free time that he always desired with his piano.

Quickly cracking his lock open and gathering up his textbooks, Keith slammed the metal door of his locker shut, spun around and-

And crashed headfirst into Lance McClain.

The head quarterback.

The jock.

The bully.

The momentum had knocked the pair onto the hard tiled floor. Keith scrambled to gather his belongings, reaching for his notebook. He needed to write out an apology before the junior could get angry.

Lance lifted his head up, eyes filled with rage.

Too late for apologies, it seems.

Lance got swiftly to his feet, dusting himself off. All his big muscular friends stood behind him, making him seem even skinnier. How had he somehow made quarterback?

The lanky boy started yelling things at Keith that he could not hear. Digging his notebook from his binder, he scribbled the words _I'm sorry_ across a page. Lance looked at it quizzically when suddenly his eyes widened as if understanding. He grabbed the book from Keith's hands, smiling like a wolf. More unheard insults were said, causing Lance's group of followers to burst into laughter. The brunette started to rip pages out of the book, white sheets of lined paper falling like cruel rain to the ground.

Anger bubbled in Keith's chest. Now was not the time to get pissed...

Lance threw the book down over the sophomore's head, laughing. Again, Keith scrawled out a response.

 _I'm sorry_

The lanky sixteen-year-old yanked the notebook from his hands and read the short message. Grabbing an abandoned pen from the floor, Lance scribbled his own message onto the page. He threw it onto the tile for Keith to read.

 _die retard!_

Keith's eyebrows pulled together in anger, and he started to stand, his movements aggressive. Lance kicked him in the side, knocking the wind from his lungs. The boy with the ebony hair had no choice but to lie there, clutching at his ribcage and gasping for oxygen like a fish out of water. His belongings still lay scattered around his crumpled form.

The tall, aggressive boy strolled away, thumbs in pockets. In that glimpse of him walking past, Keith knew something was off about him. The confidence he was projecting was fake. Keith had a way with these sorts of things. He could infer a lot from a person from simple things they did.

His hands were in his pockets, his chin was up.

There was no swagger in his step.

There was no light in his eyes.

Using his elbow to push himself upwards, the boy gasped and held tighter to his abdomen. He was pissed off as hell. Anger, a magnificent and terrifying beast, clawed at his chest and a glare plastered itself on his face. His lips formed into a snarl.

But only for a moment. His pure hatred turned into a vacancy in the time of a heartbeat. It was better to remain indifferent than to get worked up over something he couldn't change. At least, that's what he told himself. Rage still stirred in his chest. He didn't care if something was going on with that asshole. He couldn't care less!

He was lying to himself.

That was all he ever did, really.

* * *

Woah okay hello. So um

I know it's been like months *cough half a year* since I uploaded the last chapter. Sorry. I haven't been this stressed out and busy in my life. I'll try to upload more, but no promises. Sorry my dudes.

Remember, hugs not drugs.

Peace out kids.


	3. Chapter Three

Well.

This took forever to come out.

My apologies, good sirs. Thank you for all of the support.

TRIGGER WARNING for abusive relationships and mentions of sexual abuse/exploitation. (Nothing too bad though, it's still T so calm down.)

xxx

Hunk looked over at the kid next to him in concern. Keith's raven hair hung in his eyes as he drew what looked to be music notes absentmindedly in his notebook, completely disregarding the lesson plan on his desk. A bruise had already started to form on his elbow where he had caught himself on the hard, tiled floor. Hunk had watched the whole thing go down. He had wanted desperately to step in, of course, but if he did that, it would lead to a friendship which would lead to time-consumption and personal questions and a one-sided bond, and frankly that was much more painful than any beating. So he just let it be for the moment and decided to check up on the boy later, when it would have less of an impact on the guy.

Glancing up at the front of the room, the dark-skinned teen saw that the geometry teacher had his attention focused on writing out a problem on the board. He took the opportunity and ripped out a piece of paper from his notebook, scrawling the sentence " _Are you okay?_ " onto it, folding it up, and then tossing it onto Keith's desk. The fair-skinned boy looked up in surprise, seemingly snapped out of a daze. Casting a curious look at Hunk, Keith motioned around the room. _Who's this for?_ Hunk shook his head and pointed at him. _It's for you._ The lanky teen raised an eyebrow. _Are you sure?_ The bigger kid nodded once more, waving dismissively with his hand. _Yeah, I'm sure._

A curious look set into the pale boy's face as he unfolded the paper. Had he never been passed a note in class before? He blinked at the page several times before picking up his pencil, scribbling a response, and tossing it back.

 _Yeah... Why?_

Why would he be? Hunk wrote another response down and tossed the paper back.

 _I saw what happened earlier_

The two continued to pass the paper back and forth, simply forgetting about the teacher seeing.

 _Oh. Well I'm fine. You were smart for not stepping in._

 _I wish I could have. That wouldn't have done anything though._

 _Yeah. I understand so no hard feelings._

 _:)_

Just as the musician was writing another response, he saw Hunk snap to attention out of the corner of his eye and realized the teacher had noticed their note-passing.

"Garrett! Kogane! That's enough! We are here to learn, not joke around. Please start taking this class seriously!" The instructor turned back towards the board. In his peripheral vision, Hunk could see Keith smiling ever-so-slightly to himself. As Hunk scribbled down another equation in his notebook, he prayed that he hadn't made a mistake and gone too far with the deaf boy. He didn't have enough time to maintain friendships.

xxx

Katie sat at the crowded lunch table with her sketchbook in her lap. You could never know what might happen to spill, so she had opted to keep her precious drawing book in her lap, even if it did skew the angle a bit. The table was ridiculously loud, as it was the "art freak" spot in the cafeteria. Kids stood, threw food, yelled, did last-minute homework, drew, and even painted. All at the same time. It was quite hectic, and that was an understatement. Katie didn't mind, though. As long as she fit in somewhere.

The other students had learned to stop asking her about how she never ate and only stuck all the food in her bag for later. She would either blow it off or get angry, and an angry Pidge was _not_ something you wanted to deal with. The fifteen-year-old had also been on edge as of late, so bothering her was practically asking for death. So instead, the group didn't ask any questions.

"Whatcha got there, Pidgeon?" She looked up to see a dark form looming over her and suppressed a shudder.

Katie picked up her pencil, attempting to pull herself together. Weakness was never a good sign to show. "I thought I told you not to call me that." Him using the name her brother gave her made her sick.

"And I thought I told you that I don't take orders from my girlfriend." A tall, raven-haired guy stood in front of her, his swept-back hair gleaming from the mounds of gel that held the dark strands in place. He was dressed just like his personality: dark and scary. A black and white varsity jacket covered up most of a crimson shirt that hung far too low for anyone's taste, and the light seemed to glint off of his multiple ear piercings. He leaned in, and Katie felt his hot breath on her ear as he spoke. "Don't let it happen again."

She tried not to flinch away from him. "Sorry, Derek."

Even if his personality was downright _repulsive_ , nobody could deny his attractiveness. Chiseled jawline, perfectly straight nose, fair skin that seemed to glow, angular mouth, and to top it all off, deep grey eyes that sent most of the schoolgirls swooning. Derek was the picture-perfect guy, the rebellious bad boy, a known playboy. He just seemed perfect, didn't he?

Wrong.

Nothing could be more wrong.

Even the "bad boys" weren't as ruthless and cruel as Derek.

Derek grabbed Katie's wrist with much more force than was necessary. "Come with me, Pidgeon."

"W-Where?" She could already feel her body freeze and her entrails turn to ice as she cleared her throat, trying to dispell her fear.

His grip tightened. " _Come with me._ " As in _come with me and don't ask questions._ Goosebumps broke out on her skin as she slowly shut her sketchbook and put it back in her bag, which she slung over her shoulder. She tried not to see the stares that the other kids were giving her. They knew that Derek was particularly harsh, but still, they denied it and refrained from stepping it because what would they be able to do about it anyway? As Katie walked away, she could feel her hands trembling. It was only a slight tremor, but she scolded herself nevertheless and tightened her fist.

 _I have to do this. I'm doing this for him, I have to._

Derek gripped her shoulder and steered her towards the exit. The girl straightened her spine and tried not to stiffen up. She knew what being afraid meant. She knew what showing weakness meant. So she didn't show it as sweat began to break out on her forehead and her stomach began to churn with a nervous anxiety that only Derek could give her. His grip was still threateningly tight on her shoulder as he shoved her down the hallways and into an empty supply closet, flipping the light on with his spare hand. Wordlessly, she handed him her backpack, which he threw to the floor and kicked it against the doorway to make sure that nobody could tell the light was on. She prayed that it didn't mess up any of the precious food she had stored inside of the black bag.

Katie cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I thought we were doing this after school?"

Derek turned around and shot her a glare. "I told you no questions."

 _I'm doing this so that I can ask questions, though._

She went silent. Derek stepped towards her and studied her with his cold, cruel eyes. Pidge looked away towards the floor. She couldn't stand his eyes.

"How much?" Her voice was timid and quiet. That was the one question she was allowed to ask.

"Hmm." Derek tapped his cheek with his index finger in fake indecisiveness. "That depends." He frowned an put a finger under her chin, lifting her face up to him. "You've been disappointing me lately."

"Is this..." Katie took off her coat. "Is this better?"

He raised an eyebrow, curious. She had never done that before. "Not quite."

"How..." She undid the first button on her shirt and swallowed thickly. "How about this?"

Derek smiled like a wolf and stepped forward, eyes gleaming with hideous thoughts. "That's more like it." He grabbed her by the waist with one hand and studied her cruelly, his finger tracing the outline of her jaw. She tried so very hard not to shudder. As his hand moved lower, he leaned in and whispered something that chilled her to the bone. "My little toy, you're so fragile. I could break you right in half." She could not help but shiver a little and turn her face away. His rotten breath was hot and agonizing on her neck. Aggressively, he grabbed her face and turned it towards him as she made a small noise of protest. "Remeber," he hissed, "You give me what I want and I give you what you want. So do as I say or I'll see to it that you never get another sliver of information."

She took a shuddering breath and tried to keep the tears at bay. "Okay."

Derek leaned in and kissed her viciously like he was a starving animal receiving a meal. It wasn't even kissing at this point, it was him attacking her face with his perfectly-shaped yet cunning mouth. One hand gripped her waist and the other her face; they kept ever-so-slowly slipping downwards until one found her skirt. His tongue pushed its way into her mouth against her will as he shoved her violently against the shelf of spare school supplies. There would definitely be a bruise there later. Katie tasted peppermint on her tongue and felt bile rise in her throat. Ever since they had first made the deal, she hadn't been able to taste mint without gagging. The overpowering stench of Derek's hair gel made her dizzy and overflowed her senses. Not that it wasn't already overwhelming.

Derek bit Katie's lip, making her almost yelp. He pressed harder, his hands going even further while she tasted peppermint and smelled the musk of expensive hair product and squeezed her eyes closed to at least block out the sight. It was at times like this that Katie chose to take herself somewhere different, just to briefly escape. Just to be anywhere else, _anywhere._ Maybe it was because of just how harshly he was handling her, but Katie could only think about how she and Derek had first come to make the sick, twisted deal that she was now participating in.

* * *

It was when Matt had first disappeared. She was hanging flyers around the school, figuring that if anyone knew something, it would be her fellow students. As she was hanging the last poster, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and recognized the boy as Derek, a junior. She had seen him around some but chosen to keep her distance. He was involved in all sorts of dangerous gangs. Pidge notice just how close he was standing to her and sidestepped away from him and his heavy cologne. "Yes?"

He held up one of the flyers in front of her face and said, "I can help you." The freshman's stomach twisted in a sort of nervous anticipation.

"Wh- What? You know something about Matt?" Her eyes got wide and she willed herself not to get her hopes up. This could be a trick from the dangerous playboy...

"Yeah. I know some stuff. Well, my buddies do." He smirked and held the paper lower, underneath his chin.

Quickly, she dug into her bag and yanked out a pen. "Could you give me their names? Or numbers? Please, anything you know."

The teen raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm gonna give it to you for free? Seriously?"

Well, what was she supposed to think? The flyer didn't have any sort of reward posted on it. But... she would pay anything for a bit of information. "You want money? I don't have much right now but I can get as much as you need, so what's your pri-"

Derek stepped a bit closer to her and put one of his arms on the wall behind her. "Whoever said anything about money?" Katie dropped her pen in shock. Was... Was he wanting her to..? There was no way. "Then what do you want?" She kept her voice steady and ignored what she already knew to be true. She was very intellectual, and even someone who wasn't would have been able to figure it out.

Derek smiled, but not in a good way. It made her stomach turn. Leaning in, he whispered, "You."

"No! No way! She tried to break away from the boy's grasp, but he caught her by the arm before she could run. "If you say no to this, you're _never_ going to find your brother. I can make sure of that." Katie gulped. Her brother... he had to do it... for him. As horrible as it was, as disgusting as it sounded, she had to do it. There was no other option. Pidge bit her lip and looked down at her feet, her last flyer crumpling in her hand. "How much?"

"I dunno. Depends on how much info you want."

Katie was firmly pressed up against the wall, no space left between her and Derek. Finally, she looked up at his disgusting handsome face. "Why me?" Why would he choose her, of all people, to play this wicked game with? There were so many other girls prettier and more popular than herself. Why even do this at all?

"Because," he drawled, "You're pretty. You're thin. You're helpless. You'll do anything I want."

A spark of anger flared up in her chest. She wasn't the type of person to be controlled by others. Her tongue acted before she had a chance to think about it. "Oh yeah? Says who?" Derek held up the flyer and tapped the black-and-white picture in the middle of it. "Says Matt."

* * *

Katie's flashback was violently interrupted when she felt Derek tugging on the hem of her skirt. Her heart froze. He had never tried that before. And so she started to panic.

No. No.

No!

Fear flared in her chest as she tried to push him away, but he didn't even seem to notice. His mouth was all over her face and neck and his hands were tugging at her clothes and it seemed there was nothing she could do about it. She didn't want it to happen like this. She didn't want to lose her virginity to this... monster. Involuntary tears leaked from her eyes as she realized that even if she had the power to stop it, she couldn't. She had to get this information. Tears fell from her eyes and down her neck, wetting Derek's face. Finally, his attention was drawn. He pulled back and looked at her, evaluating the situation. Dropping his hands and turning away in disgust, he said, "A few of my buddies saw him put up a fight with three guys in the alley behind the supermarket."

She didn't even trust herself to respond. She scrubbed furiously at her face with her wrists, angry that he had finally made her cry. Without another look at her, he left, but the message was clear enough.

 _Do it right next time. You signed up for this. This is on you._

xxx

Okay.

So.

I wanted to add Derek in as an actual canon character, but I simply couldn't find one that matched correctly. The big option was Lotor, but his personality isn't like Derek's at all. I went through list after list of characters from the show but couldn't find a good candidate. So I made Derek. If you have an idea for who I could replace Derek with, message me. I'd be more than happy to change it.

Also.

I'm sorry this took so very long to come out. I have some great ideas for how this story will play out and my list of notes is about a mile long. This is gonna be a long one. The only problem is that I am literally swamped with all my school work and dual credit is a pain in the ass. I will also be taking multiple courses over the summer, when I usually write the most, so it may be delayed a while. My apologies. I will try my hardest to get my ideas into text.

Sorry for the long wait for this short chapter, they should be lengthier soon once the plot gets rolling.

Feel free to leave a review with any ideas you have for this story!

OhHHh I almost forgot but I have a YouTube now (check out my Voltron Edits). It's t-gwinn. *shameless self-promotion*

Thanks for reading, my good sirs.


	4. Chapter Four

**DISCLAIMER:**

 **THIS CHAPTER CONATINS DESCRIPTIONS AMD DISCUSSIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE, MENTAL/VERBAL ABUSE, CANCER/ILLNESS, AND HOSPITAL-RELATED DEATHS. IF YOU ARE SENSATIVE TO THESE TOPICS, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.**

He heard screaming and yelling.

That was all he ever heard.

Even when he wasn't at home, he still heard them, the voices ringing in his ears.

 _Get the hell out of there!_

 _You useless waste of space._

 _Do me a favor and stop breathing._

 _What are you doing just standing there?_

 _Make yourself useful for once!_

 _I hate you._

 _I wish I had never had you!_

 _Resist one more time and see what happens._

 _You told anyone, boy?_

 _You piece of garbage!_

It was a lie when people said that words stopped hurting over time, or that a person could block them out. That simply didn't happen. The words continued to hurt, even though he had heard them thousands and thousands of times since he was a kid.

Right now, he was living through the hurt behind the closed shutter door of his locked closet. The words imprinted themselves on his brain, burning into his subconscious. It even stung more than the beatings. You could eventually get used to the pain when it came to physical abuse. Your pain tolerance always had room to improve, and he was pretty sure that his was at its maximum. He could take full hits without a sound.

It was also easier to escape the physical abuse. It didn't matter how hard he clasped his hands over his ears; he could never block out the sound of the shouting.

"Get out here, you piece of shit!"

Lance pulled his knees tighter to his chest and pushed his palms against his ears with every ounce of his strength. The shutter door in front of him rattled as fists pounded against it. The doorknob made a horrible creaking sound as it was turned and pulled furiously. He could see his father's outline through the slits of the door, the form looming. The boy could always smell the alcohol seeping through his pores, the odor caused by constant drinking. It had been a bit heavier today. Without even seeing the man's face, Lance could tell that his father was drunk out of his mind. That scared him more than anything. His heart hammered and pulsated, shooting adrenaline through his veins that caused his hands to shake and his breath to come in short pants. He just had to pray that the door held shut. He had tied it closed with one of his old hoodies. It wasn't the best method, but it was the only one he had. He had twisted the sleeves around the long, curved door handle and tied the rest on to the clothing wrack above his head. No way to open it or close it unless the clothing was untied.

Lance wished it would never come undone, even when his father left, his rage spent. He wished he could just stay there and waste away. If he left, wouldn't that just mean more beatings? Wouldn't it mean more pain? More anguish? He would rather lock himself in his closet and starve. It was the least painful thing to do.

Suddenly, the pounding at the door grew just a bit more forceful. He could hear a splintering sound and looked to see that the door handle had twisted to the side a bit. The fabric started to slip.

No, no, _no, no!_

Had his father started to beat on the door handle? Had he figured it out? If so, he was screwed. Desperately, he scrambled to grab at the hoodie that held the door in place. He tightened the ends, grabbing the door and holding it with every ounce of his strength. The fear seemed to have taken root throughout his body, amplifying his grip. Had his drunken father heard the crack? Had he felt the budge? He prayed for the first time that the man had consumed so much alcohol that it impaired his senses beyond comprehension. He listened intently, heartbeat pounding in his ears. The pounding continued to rain down onto the shutter door, but he did not hear another heart-stopping splinter.

Lance hung his head between his knees, sighing in relief. His arms were twisted uncormfortably in front of him, his shaking hands still gripping at the hoodie.

He was safe. He was safe. He was fine.

He was fine...

The lanky boy felt tears prick in his eyes and his breath came in a heaving shutter.

He wasn't fine.

It seemed that he would never be fine.

 **xxx**

Hunk was in the middle of telling some ridiculous pun when the monitors started screaming and beeping that something was very, very wrong. He saw his sister's shrunken eyes flutter, saw her skeleton of a body start to spasm. He felt a nurse shove his frozen body aside and heard her yell something about a 'code blue' and slam her hand down on a button behind his sister's hospital bed. If he could hear and see and feel all of these things, then why wasn't it processing? Why wasn't he terrified? Why was he still standing there, frozen, as a doctor rushed in and ripped her hospital gown open and charged electric paddles against her chest? They shocked her four times. After the first one, the monitor stopped screening out smashing sounds and went scarily flat. The next two were unsuccessful. After the third one, however, the monitor picked up another terrifying screech and his sister gasped for breath, her eyes fluttering open.

He was numb.

He felt something warm on his cheeks, something that travelled down from his eyes down to his neck.

There were hands on his chest, ushering him out. He looked up to see that it was a doctor in a long, white, scary lab coat. His mouth was moving, but Hunk couldn't hear it.

Suddenly, his stomach was in his throat and he was running down the hallway, turning towards the bathroom. He dove into the nearest stall and emptied the contents of his gut into it, coughing hard. Hunk leaned against the small walls of the stall, panting. He had to collect himself. He had to collect himself.

He backed out of the small confinement shakily, leaning on the sink and washing his mouth. He looked up at his reflection, barely even processing what he was seeing. There was a large, flushed face in front of him. Tears streamed down his face and left clear marks all the way to his neck. Vomit pooled in the corners of his smile-less mouth.

Who was that person?

Who was the one he saw in the mirror?

He didn't recognise it.

Before he even knew what he was doing Hunk had slammed his palm against the glass, over the unrecognisable face.he couldn't look anymore. He couldn't do it anymore.

Slowly, he turned away and pulled his hand back, sinking to the bathroom tile.

He didn't even recognise himself anymore.

 **XXX**

MmmMm.

These are gonna take a while to come out.

I'm taking all sorts of summer classes and I don't have my laptop and all that shiz, so yeah.

I'm really sorry that this is so short but I couldn't find a way to transition it into the next bit that I wanted to write. I'll make the next one longer to make up for it.

Anyways, thank you for reading~

Carobonara~!


	5. Chapter Five

Yo, yo, my dudes, what's poppin'? (I hate myself, I'm sorry)

To answer a question I have received, I will say that yes, Keith will actually talk later in the series BUT it's gonna be real important and angsty (honhonhon).

A response to rainbowrider1290: Thank you very much for the kind words! And yes, I am doing very well actually :) I happen to base some of these experiences on my own, but for others I research them persistently. But for all of you who have worries, I am doing great! Haha and yeah, my summer classes are coming up to my neck but I'm getting used to the schedule ;) Thank you so very much.

BUT SERIOUSLY: LISTEN UP KIDS. I have an amino account where I was posting these chapters, but I made cover art for them. SO GO LOOK AT IT. It's right here: /c/voltron-legendary-defenders/page/blog/photoshop-covers-all-i-need/bo1V_LdIouBWzM6Vb8Z0xpWzLNgQ813JKv just for you. *shamelessly self-promotes*

Also- I'm sorry that I've had two chapters in a row that start with Lance's POV, but that's the way it turned out so like_(ツ)/

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 **DISCLAIMER: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DISCUSSIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE, DEPRESSION, SELF-HARM, AND BULLYING. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.**

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Lance lifted up his dirtied jersey in front of the mirror, the locker room devoid of any prying eyes or gossiping mouths. He always managed to either smooth-talk his way out of questions- that or bully his way though them. It was better that way. He would rather be seen as a jerk than as some abused kid who couldn't stand up against his own parents.

So he waited until the room was empty and got the locker room to himself. That way nobody could see the bruises or the scars that were very obviously from years of physical beatings. It wasn't something that he could pass off from football, either. He was literally covered in the dark purple-ish green bruises.

Lance pulled his jersey up a little further, tucking it under his chin to inspect the damage. The previous night had been particularly brutal...

The teen traced the outline of the biggest bruise with his long fingers gently, feeling around the tight, swollen skin. It sat atop his ribs painfully and he was positive that the bruise extended all the way through the bone. It didn't hurt to breathe though, so nothing was cracked or broken. He would have had to find an excuse out of practice if that were the case. He extended his fingers along the surface of his chest and stomach, gently touching each and every one of the marks. He counted in his head, a total that went up to twelve, not including his back. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to see that bit, the part where he took most of the blows. So instead he caught his own eyes in the grimy mirror reflection.

He was disgusted.

Maybe, somehow, if he was a better person, none of this would have happened to him.

Maybe if he were a better person, his parents wouldn't be addicted to alcohol.

Maybe if he were a better person, his family would have more money.

This was all his fault. Lance poked and prodded his bruised ribs a bit more forcefully until he winced from the pain of it. All his fault. He pushed even harder.

Maybe he deserved it.

Who knows.

The one thing he did know, though, was that he didn't want to go home. He didn't want to be around people. Well, the big part of him didn't. The other part ached for it so badly that it made his head spin. Most of him just wanted to bask in the depression and self-hate until there was nothing left. The pessimism flew around his mind and entangled itself in his thoughts until there was nothing left uncorrupted. It was a constant stream of 'you're nothing's and 'just disappear's.

 _Maybe I should run away._

 _God, I hate myself._

 _I wish I was better than this._

 _Why can't I just-_

The teen's eye caught movement in the mirror, shock cutting the stream of thoughts off completely.

 _Dammit!_

Lance yanked his shirt down so fast he was sure that he had torn it, but he didn't care in the slightest. Panic flooded his chest as he whipped around, desperate to know if someone had seen him, seen his bruises, seen his brokenness. There was a figure huddled in the doorway, tall, wide-eyed, and dark-haired. Lance recognized him as that deaf kid he had ran into in the hallway earlier that day.

 _How much did he see?!_

Lance made eye contact with the kid, glaring him down, putting on his mask. Before he raven-haired boy even had a chance to run, Lance had him by the collar, shoving him up against the wall. "What did you see?!" Lance yelled into his face, pushing him even harder into the bricks. The boy resisted the grip with one hand and pulled a notebook from his pocket with the other, frantically shoving it towards the taller teen. Lance dropped one arm and took the notebook, all but snarling. Onehandedly, he took the pen from the side of the book and scribbled an angry message on it, holding it up for the deaf kid to see.

 _'Did you see?'_

The kid shook his head violently and put one finger up to his lips. His actions clearly said ' _I won't tell.'_

He knew.

He knew.

 _He knew!_

The sheer shock made his grip loosen very slightly, but it was enough for Keith to seize the opportunity and break free. His converse squeaked against the tile as he turned and hurtled out the door, running at full speed. The boy was gone before Lance could process what happened.

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Keith was pissed off, to say the least. He was _beyond_ pissed off. He would have rather punched that stupid guy's face in than run like a coward.

But something about seeing the bruises on the guy made his stomach turn. It made him feel some sort of soft _something_ in his chest that he definitely didn't want to feel towards that asshole.

He tried to talk himself out of it.

Lance didn't deserve his rare sympathy. In fact, he was probably the least qualified. The 'jock' beat up kids and stole and lied and cheated. If anything, he deserved nothing but pure hatred.

But what if there was a reason he was acting like a bully? There was. Keith now knew exactly why Lance was constantly being a douche. Maybe he should do something?

Keith stopped where he was on the sidewalk, halfway home. The teen shook his head as if to rid of the thought. That was none of his business, not in the slightest. It would end badly if he stuck his nose into it, he knew. Lance had also made it very _very_ clear that he wanted the whole thing to be kept a secret from the student body. And what if the markings had come from something else? Keith continued his route. He knew that there was no way those bruises and scars came from anything other than abuse. Of what kind, he wasn't sure. The teen guessed that it was probably his parents or guardian or something of the sort.

Not that it mattered.

Because _didn't._

Keith found himself already at his front door, too involved in his thoughts to notice his surroundings. He shoved his key in the lock and let himself in, kicking the door shut behind him. He manuvered through the house until he stood in front of his precious piano. He didn't touch it for a while, he just stared.

It made him so mad sometimes.

He couldn't hear the beautiful notes anymore.

Keith almost would have preferred blindness. It was possible to play piano while blind, from muscle memory and hand-key distance coordination. That way he could play and hear it. He would give anything to hear it again.

Angrily, he pulled the bench out and flipped open the key lid. Immediately, he started to pound out Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata in the Third Movement. It wasn't the calm sonata, it was the insane, passionate one. Even though they shared the same name, they were polar opposites.

Keith loved it.

As the song went on, he pounded on the keys, harder and harder until his fingers hurt. It was a naturally intense song that was meant to be played loudly, but even the quiet parts he played as if they were enraged.

 _Up, down, up, down, up, down, BAM BAM!_

 _Up, down, up, down, up, down, BAM BAM!_

He continued to play, his hands aching. If he could hear correctly he knew his ears would be ringing from the force of the notes.

He didn't understand why he was like this.

He didn't understand why the most precious thing was taken away from him.

 _He didn't understand!_

 _BAM, BAM!_

He was enraged about that jerk beating on him when he _didn't do anything._

 _BAM, BAM!_

The emotion poured off of him in boiling waves, washing over the piano and the sound of the notes he could no longer hear.

Why was his life such a constant shitstorm?

 _BAM, BAM!_

He hit the keys so hard he felt them vibrate under his fingers. Keith could practically hear the strings straining and crying out, could practically hear the piano's silent pleading for the gentle touch it deserved. His hands froze immediately, guilty.

What was he doing?

 _What was he doing?_

The only thing he had left was his piano. That was the only thing. And what was he doing with it?

He was abusing it.

"I'm sorry," Keith whispered, pulling his hands back. He only spoke to his piano. It was really the only thing that deserved such a gratitude. "I'm sorry."

Guilt burrowed in his throat as all of his anger dissipated. He brushed his fingers along the length of the keys, apologising. Asking for forgiveness.

The piano accepted.

It always did.

He brought his hands back and resumed the song, rage completely gone.

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Yo so like I know there's no graphic self-harm in this, but idk if some people would be triggered by Lance poking his bruises purposefully. Better be safe than sorry, though.

 **A message to everyone who has read and/or supported this story so far:** thank you so so much. Even though my updates are inconsistent and some chapters are short and choppy, you still continue to support me. I never thought people would enjoy and stay with this story, and it's blowing my mind how much people seem to like this. I can't even say how much your support means to me. Thank you so much. I've gone farther than I ever thought I would go because of each of you. Thank you.

ANNOUNCEMENT: I am going to be making these chapters shorter so there's less of a wait in between them. I usually try to get over 2k per chapter with my stories, but I don't have the time for that at the moment. So, hopefully, these will be coming out faster. My apologies for the shortness.

For those of you who are wondering when/if Shiro is going to come into play, all I can say is he will appear in the near future (thank ImThatAcroBat for that).

Have a lovely day!


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